


L'Étoile de Chien

by Rhysbees



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, I’ll add tags as they happen, M/M, Old Men In Love, Religious Conflict, Suicidal Thoughts, What the heck is Les Mis without some religious struggle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22147276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysbees/pseuds/Rhysbees
Summary: “Sirius Black,” growls the Inspector, “was not the first to escape Azkaban.” He keeps his gaze on the floor as if hoping that it would allow him to fall through it.“Sirius Black was simply the first to escape and survive.The first to escape Azkaban was prisoner number 24601, Jean Valjean. But he died in the black sea before reaching the shore.”His fists clench, the nails cutting into his palms.Dumbledore strokes his beard, giving the Inspector an assessing look. “And I assume you knew him then? This Jean Valjean? That is why you are here, yes? To keep Hogwarts safe now that there has been another escape?”Across the castle, Muggle-Studies Professor Ultime Fauchlevent looks warily out his office window, the chill of the dementors posted outside the castle sending him into shivers despite their distance from the castle.
Relationships: Javert/Jean Valjean, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry if any characters are OOC - It’s been a HOT WHILE since I’ve read/watched HP or Les Mis. It’s whatever though, I’m ploughing a hole through canons anyway. 
> 
> Unbeta’d. This is my first fanfic also, so please be kind. 
> 
> Standard disclaimer HP belongs to JK Rowling and Les Mis to Victor Hugo.

_«French»_

_”Latin”_

_Thoughts_

“Sirius Black,” growls the Inspector, “was _not_ the first to escape Azkaban.” He keeps his gaze on the floor as if hoping that it would allow him to fall through it.

“Sirius Black was simply the first to escape and survive.

The first to escape Azkaban was prisoner number 24601, Jean Valjean. But he died in the black sea before reaching the shore.”

His fists clench, the nails cutting into his palms.

Dumbledore strokes his beard, giving the Inspector an assessing look. “And I assume you knew him? This Jean Valjean? That is why you are here, yes? To keep Hogwarts safe now that there has been another escape?”

“Yes.” He grits out. “Yes, I did. Tw-Valjean.. was my greatest failure. I was brought here for my… Expertise.”

_I hold his death on my shoulders._

The thought comes without warning and he forces it away. The death of Jean Valjean simply meant that the world was rid of another criminal. Nothing more. Nothing less…

Across the castle, Muggle-Studies Professor Ultime Fauchlevent looks warily out his office window, the chill of the dementors posted outside the castle sending him into shivers despite their distance from the castle. He is sensitive to their presence. He can remember their ice-cold embrace. Their rattling breath. The feeling of wanting nothing more than death... As he looks down at the papers he is marking, he sees liquid marring the pages and blurring the words. He’s crying, he realises.

_I can’t do this._

He takes out a new sheet of parchment, scribbles, and sends it flying to his classroom door where it adheres itself to the wood.

**Students,**

**Classes tomorrow are cancelled. Apologies for the short notice.**

**-Prof F**

He needs time to collect himself. He gets up and walks to the fireplace, grabbing a fistful of the green powder from the pot resting next to it.

« _Eglise de Digne, France! »_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a visit to an old friend is in order.

_«French»_

_“Latin”_

_Thoughts_

The place in which Fauchlevent arrives is the hearth of a rectory sitting next to a small church. He falls out, stumbling before catching himself on a table nearby. The house is empty. This is expected. He hadn’t given the Bishop notice that he would be coming. He checks his watch. It was early evening when he left Britain. He guesses that the Bishop would be arriving from Evening Prayer soon. He regrets having not sent word ahead, but knows that it is better to have a surprise visit than to interrupt the Bishop’s prayers.

He makes himself comfortable at the table. True to his estimate, he does not have to wait long before the Bishop arrives. His eyes widen in surprise at the visitor, but he smiles in delight as he recognises Fauchelevent.

_« Jean! »_

Fauchlevent stands in time for the Bishop to pull him into a hug.

_« Jean it’s been too long! »_

_« Yes, it has. »_

The Bishop of Digne, Myriel, or as he is usually called, _Bienvenue,_ was one of the few who knew of Fauchelevent’s secrets. He did not approve of Azkaban, seeing it as a way to prevent criminals from reforming. It was too merciless there, and he thought that because of the dementors, most prisoners came out worse off than they went in. He stepped back from Fauchelevent and looked at him assessingly.

_« I take it you are not here for purely social reasons_. »

« _No, unfortunately not. »_

_« What is wrong? »_

_« They have posted dementors at Hogwarts. »_

Fauchelevent wrings his hands nervously.

_« I can feel them all the way from the castle. I don’t know what to do, Myriel. I’m afraid. What if I slip? What if I snap on a student? The dementors made me into a monster. I was already a criminal. I was already a horrible person back then. But they took everything that had made me a man. »_

He looks pleadingly at his old friend.

_« I don’t want to become that again. »_

_« Jean. »_

Myriel meets his eyes.

_« Jean. You won’t become that again. You’re a different man than you were before. I have watched you grow ever since you set foot in here and tried to rob my silver, thinking I was an Esseme_ _1_ _. Thinking that you could go back to what you were does yourself and your progress a great disservice. »_

Jean sighs.

_« I know. I’m just. Anxious. When the dementors get close. I can hear the screams. The prison. I can see my family starving again. I see Fantine dying again. »_

_« The world was particularly cruel to them wasn’t it? »_

Jean stifles the tears that threaten to well up again.

_« Why does God let good folks suffer so? »_

He’s asked Myriel this question many many times already.

The Bishop gives him a sad smile.

_« I’m not God, Jean. You need to ask him. »_

Jean nods sadly. They’ve had this conversation too many times. Before, the Bishop would suggest a multitude of reasons, but none of them sat right with Jean. Now, he knows that Jean needs to find his own answers.

Myriel sighs. He hates seeing Jean so despondent.

_« I haven’t mentioned this before because, well, it was not relevant. But there is a spell to repel dementors. I think that you’re ready to learn it now. »_

Jean lifts his head, quickly wiping away tears.

_« There is? »_

_« Yes, it’s called the Patronus charm. It’s very high level magic. I didn’t teach you earlier because Azkaban had destabilized your core. In addition, in order for the spell to work, you need to be able to visualize your happiest memory, which I felt may have been hard for you. »_

Jean nods. That was fair.

_« The incantation is ‘Expecto Patronum.’ As you say the incantation, visualize your happiest memory in as much detail as possible as if you were going to apparate there, or as if you were going to place the memory in a pensive. Watch. »_

Myriel draws his wand and with a quick swish, the curtains pull shut over the windows. He then closes his eyes. His face becomes peaceful and he smiles, whispering the words “ _Expecto Patronum.”_

A silvery white dove bursts from the tip of Myriel’s wand. It circles the room, cooing, before resting on the table. It looks at Jean inquisitively, its head tilting to the side before it vanishes in a puff of mist.

Jean stares, enthralled, at the place the dove had previously occupied.

_« It’s beautiful. »_

Myriel smiles.

_« Yes. It is. You try now. »_

Jean carefully stands and takes out his wand. He closes his eyes. He thinks of Cosette's wedding. The Pontmercy’s are there. The church is packed. White flowers line the aisles and gentle organ music plays. Cosette stands at the altar, radiant like an angel. She looks at him through her veil and smiles.

_“Expecto Patronum”_

Nothing happens. He opens his eyes. No great shape greets him.

Myriel smiles anyway.

_« A good first attempt! Expecto Patronum is a hard spell. Many cannot cast it. If I may ask, what memory did you choose? »_

_« Cosette’s wedding. »_

The Bishop rubs his chin.

_« Perhaps a different memory. I remember that you were not completely overjoyed by the wedding. You were distinctly mopier until you took the post at Hogwarts. Your grief at losing your daughter in a way may be hampering the patronus. »_

Jean wants to protest, but he knows Myriel is right. Instead, he nods and closes his eyes, trying again.

He is afraid. Afraid of being captured again by Javert. There is an extra weight now in his arms, slowing him down, but he doesn’t mind. He looks down to make sure that the child is safe. She smiles up at him, milk teeth missing. Her smile is radiant. He feels his heart stop. He will never let anything happen to her.

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ”

A bit of mist. Nothing more.

« _Very good Jean. I think that will be enough for tonight. »_

_« No. Let me try one more time. »_

He is in an inn. It is not a nice inn. There is a smell in the air - a sort of stew is cooking. But he is not looking at the stew. He is crouched down near the boiler, holding out a doll. He is dressed in a threadbare yellow jacket which clashes discordantly with the rest of his appearance. He is crouched down to the floor, drawing in on himself - almost as if he were trying to seem smaller than he really was. Hiding near the boiler is a child. A thin and sickly child. He beckons for her to take it. Vaguely, he hears the innkeeper give permission to the child. He is not focussed on the innkeeper. At those words however, the child's face lights up. It is clear the child is not used to smiling. But it somehow makes this smile all the more radiant. It lights up the room - seeming like the sunlight after the forty days of rain in the great flood of Jonah. It is beautiful to behold. And Jean knows he wants to see it again every day for the rest of his life. How great it is that this is the child that he will care for. _I will take you far away from here._

_“Expecto Patronum.”_

Mist rises from his wand, creating a semi-sphere shield in front of him. There is no animal, but it is impressive all the same.

_« Wonderful, Jean. Now, if you keep practicing, you should be able to achieve a corporeal patronus within the year! »_

Myriel smiles at Jean.

_« It’s late my friend. You should return to Hogwarts. »_

Jean nods. Tiredness settles over him. Casting the patronus so many times has exhausted him.

_« Goodnight Myriel. »_

_« Goodnight Jean. »_

_—-_

_1_ _«Une Esseme» being short for SM or Sans-Magique. I personally dislike the clunkiness of JK’s French Term Non-Magique. I think some purebloods or old wizards may use the term, but certainly those in contact with the modern muggle world would use some sort of slang. Trendier young wizards may also use the term «Une Messe» : Esseme (EsseMe - > MeEsse -> Messe) : it’s a slight bastardization of Verlan and it also has the benefit of being a slight pun on the French word for “mass” seeing as Muggles greatly outnumber wizards. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an interaction between two old acquaintances takes place.

_«French»_

_“Latin”_

_Thoughts_

Javert stalks the corridors. As he walks, he gains odd looks from the students he passes. He is not sure if it is because of his garb - slightly different from the typical auror’s robes - or because he is simply a new face in the castle. Either way, it annoys him. He is used to commanding fear or respect - being in control. He is used to running a taskforce. But now he is alone. In any other situation, he would be happy to be away from his coworkers. While excellent at their jobs, they pry much too much into his personal life which annoys him greatly. Sure, they are all sworn to secrecy, but it does not mean that they need to know anything about him. However, even away from the force, he is not truly alone. No, he is in an unfamiliar castle surrounded by hundreds, maybe thousands, of children. It is not a good day.

As he walks, he wishes that his old mentor wasn’t retired. He misses Mad-Eye. He was highly competent and did not often waste time on small talk. His magical eye would also be helpful. Javert feels like a sitting duck right now. He has no idea what to look for. He does not know this school. If Sirius Black has disguised himself as a student, he would be none the wiser. All he can do is wait for Black to make a move. He feels out of his element.

_Stupid Valjean_

They had only brought him here because of his “experience with the first Azkaban escapee.” Nevermind the fact that he had not brought the prisoner back to the prison. No, prisoner 24601 had done a fine job of dying on his own. He kicks a loose piece of stone. He misses the solitude of his apartment. He misses the simplicity. Everything here is so over the top - from the food, to the decor, to the _fucking staircases._

_« Merde! »_

His foot slips through a trick step, and he finds himself caught midway through a staircase. He is well and truly stuck and he struggles for his wand. He berates himself. If this were Sirius Black, he would be dead. 

_“Finite Incantatem! Finite! Finite!”_

The stair lets go, and he tumbles down the stairs. The ground approaches and he realizes that he should have cast a cushioning charm first.

_Putain._

Suddenly, he stops. He realizes that he is being held by the armpits by someone much larger than himself. He wrenches himself free of the stranger and brushes himself off.

He barks out a “thanks,” and tries to walk off quickly to salvage his dignity. However, his savior has other ideas.

“Wait! Inspector!”

He turns quickly. The voice is very familiar. He comes face to face with an unfamiliar man.

“Are you alright Inspector? Should I walk you to the hospital wing?”

The stranger looks at him with concern.

He scowls.

“I am fine Mister…”

“Fauchelevent. Professor Fauchlevent.”

“Professor Fauchlevent. I am fine... Thank you. For your. Concern.”

The man, Fauchlevent, looks familiar. However, Javert does not forget faces. It has assisted him greatly in his career. The fact that he does not know this man goes beyond vexing him. It is wrong in a visceral sense.

“Are you sure? That was quite the fall… I do not mind. I am finished with classes today.”

He sighs. It is obvious that Fauchelevent will not leave him easily. Perhaps once he is in the hospital wing the matron will make him leave. Besides, it will give him time to figure out who he is.

“Fine. We will go.”

He tests out his leg and winces as it takes his weight. Fauchelevent notices and rushes to his side. He growls, but it is half-hearted. He is annoyed by Fauchlevent’s actions, but it reminds him of his taskforce in a way. They were like puppies sometimes - eager to please the testy Inspector Javert.

_I just want to go home._

  
  


“So. Inspector. What brings you here to Hogwarts?”

“That’s classified.”

“... Oh.”

They fall into an uncomfortable silence after that.

As they arrive at the hospital wing, they see a young blonde boy on one of the beds. He is screaming his head off as the matron bustles around him.

“Calm down Mister Malfoy! I cannot heal you if you don’t let me see it!”

She reaches towards the boy's arm, but he yanks it back, yelping.

“Mister Malfoy please calm down!”

Javert scowls. It is just his luck that the most annoying patient would be here when he was. Fauchelevent on the other hand looks guiltily at Javert.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he would be here.”

“Of course you didn’t. There was no way of knowing who would be here.”

“Should I get Madame Pomfrey for you?”

“No. Madame Pomfrey looks rather busy. I’ll wait.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You can go. I can stand on my own.”

Fauchlevent gives him a look that says he is not going anywhere until he is sure Javert had been cared for.

After a few minutes, Madame Pomfrey rushes over.

“I am so sorry gentlemen. How can I help you?”

It is Fauchlevent who speaks.

“Inspector Javert had a rather unfortunate run in with the trick step.”

Madame Pomfrey shakes her head.

“I’ve told Albus time and time again to either fix it or post a warning. Greatest wizard of the age and he cannot fix a stair.”

She sighs and waves her wand over Javert’s legs.

“Just a bad bruise it looks like. I’ll give you a salve for the bruise and a pain potion for tonight.”

She walks over to the stores, leaving Javert and Fauchelevent at the bed.

“Well. I have been seen. You may go now, Fauchelevent.”

“Yes. Well. Good evening. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yes. Good evening.”

_Who was he?_

—-

Merde = Shit

Putain = a vulgar word for a prositute used like “Fuck”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while since I have written - It’s good to be able to again.


End file.
